


René

by anna_chronistic



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Javert is bad at feelings, Javert is not the villain, Mental Illnesses, PS, Post-Seine, Prison, Short One Shot, Suicide, criminals, even though he's kinda mean in this fic, this is supposed to be sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-04 05:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16340525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_chronistic/pseuds/anna_chronistic
Summary: Javert arrests his father.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at like 2 am. And I really suck at exposition...sorry in advance.

**April 4, 1817**

The day had barely just begun, and the commissioner of police had informed inspector Javert of another escaped prisoner. 

"Corbin Javert has escaped from a mental hospital. A criminal and an alcoholic who has succumbed to insanity. He escaped at about 3:00 am and has been at large for hours," the commissioner told inspector Javert.

"Do you know where M. Javert was last sighted, or what he looks like?" Javert asked of the criminal in question who happened to share his surname.

"He's in his early 60's. Unusually tall, blond. And he just has that crazy look in his eyes. Some guards at the mental hospital call him 'keyhole Corbin' because his eyes are so distinctive that you could recognize him through the keyhole of an asylum door."

"I'd take it he's hard to miss," said Javert.

"Monsieur Javert is definitely hard to miss, but I haven't a clue where he would go. I'll send you and one of your colleagues to try and find him," the commissioner said.

~~

About 45 minutes later, Javert found an unstable-looking old man in an abandoned furniture store lighting an ottoman on fire, his graying blond hair getting dangerously close to the flames. He saw the man turn around and stare at him in shock with vivid blue eyes, which were just like his own. That had to be the "keyhole Corbin" that the guards at the asylum were talking about. Upon seeing the police officer, Corbin slowly got up and walked towards Javert with his hands visible. He was essentially turning himself in.

"You got me now, René," he said.

The fact that the man called him by his first name caught Javert's attention. Nevertheless, Javert handcuffed him and took him to a fiacre where his colleague was situated. Surely that would make for an awkward carriage ride.

~~

"I must say, you got him rather quickly, Javert," the inspector's colleague said to him. At the name "Javert", the convict of the same name grew more tense as he was being escorted into the fiacre.

"Where are we going, René?" Corbin asked Javert. Corbin had only said his first name twice and it was already annoying to the inspector.

"We have not decided whether you will spend your time in prison or an asylum, so we are taking you to the police station for the time being. Although if it were my decision, you would go straight to jail, monsieur."

"Quit acting like you don't know who I am!" Corbin snapped. "At least I recognize you. Javert ain't a common name, y'know. And you look just like Jenya."

That was a name that Javert hadn't heard in a long time: his mother's. Javert did have thick eyebrows, a prominent nose, and long dark hair like his mother, who was a bohemian who traveled to France from Transylvania. But the fact that the man knew his mother's name raised even more suspicions. Clearly no one from France was named Jenya. Javert knew what the most probable explanation for that was, but he didn't want to think about it.

"Do you know where Jenya is?" Corbin asked after along time of silence.

"No, I do not," Javert replied. "I do not know where she is, or whether she is dead or alive."

"Can't you go and figure that out, René?"

"No, I'm a police officer, not an investigator."

"Isn't it ironic? I never would have thought one of _us_ would end up a police officer," Corbin said with some envy in his voice.

"What do you mean 'one of us'?" the younger Javert said.

"René, I am your father." He said it.

"I know that," said the inspector. "That won't stop me from arresting you."

It somewhat reminded him of a convict from two years ago named Jean Valjean, who told him his entire backstory as if that would make a difference. Javert had a troubling backstory too, but he turned out okay, so clearly no one should use that as an excuse.

"That's okay," Corbin said calmly. "I am not trying to get your sympathy. Jail is a place where I belong. There are a lot of things wrong with me. I see things that are not there. I'm illiterate. I cannot have a job, so I must steal."

"I'm sorry for how much of a disappointment I am," he said, in tears. "Me and Jenya failed to be good parents. I really am sorry, René."

"You may know me as Javert," the inspector said, completely tired of being called René by his estranged father, albeit slightly resentful that he shared a surname with a criminal. Javert dropped his father off at the police station and left without saying a word.


	2. Chapter 2

**August 30, 1823**

"You are wanted at the coroner's office, inspector," the commissioner said to inspector Javert.

"What for this time?" Javert asked.

"There have been reports of gunfire on August 29, and the corpse of the victim has been found in the alley."

City coroners were often in communication with law enforcement. Whenever there was a suspicious death, they would notify police, who would try to come up with suspects of the homicides. Javert was all too used to getting called to the coroner's office and being told to be on the lookout for murder suspects.

~~

Javert arrived at the coroner's office, fully expecting the case to be another murder.

"Good evening, Dr. Lagrange," he said to the coroner.

"Hello, inspector Javert," the coroner greeted him. As they walked to the autopsy room, Javert began to let Lagrange know about his theory of the case.

"Since the victim was shot in an alley, I suspect that the killer would be a gang member or a recently escaped convict who stole a gun," he said.

"Oh, there's none of that," Lagrange said.

"What do you mean, monsieur? Was this person not shot?"

"My apologies, inspector. When I said 'gunshot', it conveyed a strong implication that the case was a homicide. It isn't," the coroner explained. "The gunshot was self-inflicted, so there are no suspects that we are looking for."

"Then why am I needed?"

"We were hoping you might identify him," Lagrange said.

Lagrange handed Javert a file regarding the dead John Doe.

_sex: male_  
_age: late 60's_  
_height: 1.82 meters_  
_weight: 59 kilograms_  
_hair color: white_  
_eye color: blue_  
_cause of death: single gunshot_  
_manner of death: suicide_

Javert was taken by surprise after seeing the victim's height. The average height of a French person was about 1.65 meters, so it was rare to be this tall. Lagrange then lead Javert to a table with a sheet covering a corpse. Lagrange removed the sheet, and Javert saw a frighteningly familiar person.

His father. There was blood on the right side of his head staining his white hair. The body was in rigor mortis, and the blue eyes that once begged Javert for clemency were now rolled in the back of his head. He was very underweight and had a few missing teeth like that one woman from earlier that year. Javert knew exactly why some of his teeth were missing. On the third time he arrested his father, he was in hysterics and threw himself down a flight of stairs, knocking his front teeth out.

Javert had arrested him four more times since first arresting him in 1817. He knew surprisingly little about his father; only that he was in and out of prison and had a shopping list of mental problems. There weren't many conversations between the two, except during the short, awkward cab rides to jail. Javert learned that his father frequently heard voices, and that since he could not read, he had taken an interest in drawing. The last time he knew about his father's whereabouts was when he was released from prison two months ago.

"I know who this man is," Javert said plainly. "His full name is Corbin Régis Javert and he was born in 1754." Javert sighed and stared straight ahead, not making any eye contact. The coroner saw the usually stern inspector looking somewhat introspective. He also noticed that the inspector and the dead man shared a surname and somewhat looked like each other.

"I know this is unusual to ask, but are you of any relation to this man?" Lagrange asked.

"Yes, he was my father," he said. He was a little sad about the circumstances of his father's death, but not surprised at all, as his father had attempted suicide several times before. The only thing he was surprised about was that his father made it to 69. Perhaps Corbin Javert was too far gone and men like him could never change.

"I am sorry for your loss, monsieur," Lagrange consoled.

"That's okay," Javert said. "I knew that something like this would eventually happen."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenya Javert finds out what happened to her husband and son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sad chapter as well, but the 4th chapter will be an alternate ending that is somewhat happier and contains more valvert. Comments are always welcome :D

**September 14, 1835**

Jenya Javert is a lonely woman living in a foreign country without much money. She has few friends and is not in contact with any immediate family. She and her husband separated years ago, and she has not seen her son in decades. She is very kind and caring, however, and spends much of her time rescuing stray cats. Jenya is very old at age 80, but manages to get up early every morning and wander the city.

One of the places that cats often frequented were cemeteries. Jenya had stumbled upon a small gravesite at the crossroads of two busy Parisian streets. If one passed by it quickly enough, they wouldn't even know that there were graves there. This miniature cemetery was a desolate and forgotten place, as the graves at crossroads were typically reserved for executed criminals and suicides.

Two of the names on the graves caught her eyes and made her think that she was dreaming.

_Corbin Régis Javert_  
_12 August, 1754 - 29 August, 1823_

About 5 meters away was another grave that read:

_René Atanase Javert_  
_22 May, 1780 - 7 June, 1832_

Jenya finally found out what happened to her husband and son. Her son whom she'd loved dearly and whose middle name she had chosen (her husband had chosen his firs name, even though he wasn't there when his son was born). She had not seen René since 1788, when she contracted tuberculosis in prison and he was moved to a different penitentiary. After realizing she'd only seen him for a fraction of his 52-year life, she tried to remember the 8 years she'd been with him as vividly as possible. He was a smart child, but very self-hating. He would learn and practice the French language that he'd picked up from the guards, trying to lose his accent; he was not very interested in the Romanian that she'd taught him. And whenever he'd get a chance to look out the windows he would look at the stars and keep track of their positions in the sky, even though the window in their cell was extremely small.

She could only think of the worst when she pondered why these two were buried at a crossroads cemetery and not in a conventional one.

Corbin was not capable of committing crimes heinous enough to be worthy of the death penalty. He was a criminal, but not a malicious person.

And she knew for a fact that her son was not executed. She knew that from a young age, her son absolutely detested crime (and astrology for some reason). He'd try to get on the prison guards' good side, and it worked somewhat. He was able to gradually distance himself from his shady origins as some of the guards (the ones who didn't call him a gypsy) began to like him. It was as if he were trapped in a family of criminals and wanted out. She felt as if her son's resentment for his family was her fault.

So clearly they were not executed. Why they took their own lives, she'd never know why. Even though they were very different people, the lives of this father and son ended the same tragic way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Historically, burial at cross-roads was the method of disposing of executed criminals and suicides. Superstition also played a part in the selection of crossroads in the burial of suicides. Folk belief often held such individuals could rise as some form of undead (such as a vampire) and burying them at crossroads would inhibit their ability to find and wreak havoc on their living relations and former associates.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burial#Burial_at_cross-roads)


	4. Alternate ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Javert is rescued from the Seine, Javert is reunited with his mother and Valjean. Also Javert has an open and honest discussion with Valjean about his father's suicide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Lawrisnotmocked for inspiring me to continue this story!

**June 10, 1832**

Jean Valjean is on his way to visit Javert at the hospital. Three days earlier, he had rescued Javert from drowning in barely just enough time. Vajean was perplexed about Javert's decision to jump off the bridge. But for now, his biggest concern for Javert was that he was okay.

On the route to the hospital is a plaza that contained a bookstore that many bourgeoise woud shop at. It was there where he saw an old woman selling what looked to be handmade jewelry. She was a tall woman in her late 70's with long straight gray hair in a braid. Her skin was darker than average, and it looked like the clothing she was wearing was from a different country or time period.

"How many times do I have to tell you that there is no soliciting allowed here, Madame Javert?" and employee at the bookstore told her.

The name Javert piqued Valjean's interest. As the woman hastily moved away from the bookstore before she could get in any trouble, Valjean followed after her.

"I'm sorry, monsiuer. Please don't tell the police," she said.

"No worries, madame. I would not do such a thing," Valjean said to the woman.

"Then what concerns you?"

"This may seem like an odd question, but do you have a son?" he asked her.

"Yes I do. But how would you know such a thing?" she asked.

"I overheard your last name," Valjean explained. "I know someone of the same name who could be old enough to be your son. In fact, I am on my way to visit him right now. You could come with me if you like."

"Where is he?" Madame Javert asked.

"He is at the hospital," Valjean said with some hesitation. "And to be honest, he is there because he jumped off a bridge in a suicide attempt. I really hope he is okay."

"I do, too," she said. "Although I may not know this man, I can relate. I lost my husband to suicide nine years ago. I would like to come with you."

"I am glad that you decided to come, mostly because I am concerned that your son the man that I am visiting are the same person," Valjean said.

"I highly doubt it," the old woman said. "I think the odds of me ever seeing René again are extremely low. I have not seen him since 1788."

~~

Jenya Javert could not believe what she saw after she followed Valjean to the hospital. There was a tall man in his 50's with the same long, dark straight hair that she used to have, and the same big blue eyes as her late husband. Against all odds, she had found her son again.

"René! _Credeam că nu te voi mai vedea niciodată după acești ani!_ " she said in excitement.

" _Scuze, ce? Cine ești tu?_ " Javert said back.

" _Nu-mi vine să cred că ai încercat să sari de pe pod și să te îneci!_ " she said with sadness in her voice.

" _De unde știi asta? De ce nu vorbești în franceză?_ " Javert asked her.

"I was too excited to speak French!" she said. "My son, I have not seen you in 44 years." She held his hand.

"Thank you for bringing me here, monsieur," she said to Valjean.

"So you're telling me that you're—wait, I thought you died in prison," Javert said, perplexed.

"No. Us Javerts are tough," she said. She playfully nudged Javert and patted him on the back.

That made him cough—a deep, rattling sound from way down in his chest. And it hurt, a lot.

"I am so sorry, I did not know that you had the consumption," his mother said.

"It is only pneumonia," Javert said. "I really shouldn't be in a hospital in the first place."

"The doctor said that three of your ribs are broken. You should definitely be in a hospital," Valjean said.

"Ah, I see that you like ignoring doctors as well, just like your father," Jenya said. "So tell me, René, why you tried to end your life? I feel as if I have failed you as a parent. Like if things had gone differently, you would not be in this situation."

"You won't like this," Javert began, "but I was in law enforcement most of my life."

Jenya was surprised at this statement.

"In my mind, there were only two options for me: either break the law or uphold it. From my birth, I was on the path to becoming a criminal. But I did not want to be seen as less-than by society. So I worked my way up."

"The man who brought you here has a somewhat similar story. He spent 19 years in jail, and in 1815, he broke his parole. He's been living under multiple aliases ever since, and at one point he even pretended to be the mayor of a town. He is one of the most dishonest people I know. But despite this, he isn't inherently bad, and I learned that the hard way. At the barricades, he was to execute me for my role as a spy. With me finally out the way, his problems would be solved. But the old man at the barricades didn't kill me like I expected him to. No. Instead, he spared my life. I have been wrong about morality all my life and have judged others harshly. Even Valjean's daughter's mother died partially because of me. I was conflicted and couldn't possibly find a way to resolve it, so I went to Pont au Change and jumped off the bridge into the Seine intending to kill myself."

"Damn, this is my fault," Valjean muttered to himself, his eyes downcast.

"No," Javert said. "This isn't your fault," he said to Valjean.

"Or yours," he said to his mother. And then he started coughing again. Both Jenya and Valjean had disconcerting looks on their faces. Jenya turned to Valjean.

"Your daughter needs you," she said. "You go to your daughter's fiancee, and I'll be here with René."

"Okay, madame," Valjean said. And Valjean left, glad to go back to his daughter, but simultaneously guilt-ridden, still thinking that somehow Javert's suicide attempt was because of him.

**August 29, 1833**

It had been over a year since Javert was rescued from the Seine. Three of his ribs had fractured from the fall, and he had developed pneumonia that had taken a long time to go away. Now he was living with Jean Valjean, whom he didn't despise anymore and in fact had considered to be a close friend. But even though he was physically recovered, there was still something that was weighing on him. It was the tenth anniversary of his father's death.

Valjean immediately noticed that Javert seemed a bit off.

"What's wrong, Javert?" he asked.

"A lot, actually," he finally answered honestly. "I have been thinking about things that have been troubling me for quite some time."

"What were you thinking about?" Valjean asked, putting his hand on Javert's shoulder.

"It's my father. He committed suicide ten years ago to the day. And the only interaction I've had with him was either arresting him or bringing him to the police station. He really needed help, but I did not care at all," Javert's voice was shaking. "He actually attempted suicide several times before."

"I have killed him, just as I have killed Fantine," he said, now in tears. Valjean put an arm around Javert.

"Forgive me, Valjean; I must look very stupid. I have not cried since the 18th century!"

"You don't look stupid, Javert. It's okay to cry sometimes," Valjean said. But Valjean actually _was_ shocked to see Javert crying. Javert shed more tears as he sniffled and concealed his face.

"Before June of last year, I never understood why someone would want to end their life. My only solution was to take him back to prison, and the state's solution was to have him committed to a mental hospital. But mental hospitals are not much better than prison. I think my father just needed a friend."

"And you felt like you realized this too late?" Valjean asked.

"Yes," Javert said. He stopped crying and blew his nose.

"You are not the same person you were ten years ago. You may have changed your outlook late in life, but you have still changed for the better."

"I cannot imagine what it's like, though," Valjean continued. "So whenever you want to talk, I will be here for you, René." 

Jean Valjean embraced the taller man and stroked his hair. That time, Javert did not object to being called by his first name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation from Romanian:
> 
> Javert's mother: René! I thought I would never see you again after all these years!
> 
> Javert: I'm sorry, what? Who are you?
> 
> Javert's mother: I cannot believe you tried to jump off a bridge and drown yourself!
> 
> Javert: How do you know this and why aren't you speaking French?


End file.
